


It's What's Underneath that Counts

by copernicusjones



Series: Fraeger Propaganda [1]
Category: Harvest Moon, 牧場物語つながる新天地 | Story of Seasons
Genre: (Those tags are all pretty much in order as they appear in the fic), Awkward Boners, Clothing Kink, Crossdressing, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Innuendo, Inspired by Fanart, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation Interruptus, Not Wearing Underwear, Sexual Humor, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 06:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copernicusjones/pseuds/copernicusjones
Summary: Raeger does exactly what he swore he'd never do, stepping in to be Annie's model for the Fall Fashion Fiesta—by wearing a cheongsam.Fortunately he won, which means he won't have to deal with the outfit or the odd, unmentionable feeling it created again.  But Fritz, who wants to treat his best bro (and himself) to a victory meal, has other ideas...





	It's What's Underneath that Counts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yorunoangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorunoangel/gifts).



> There's no Fraeger smut in existence so I'll fix that my own damn self.
> 
> There _is_ , however, a decent amount of fanart of Raeger in a ruby cheongsam (based on his dialogue should you, the player character, wear it), but the specific piece this fic is influenced by is [ this one.](http://hnbi.tumblr.com/post/118424553104/presenting-reager-in-a-cheongsam)

It was days like this that Raeger wished he drank.

But he didn't think there was enough wine in all of Rose Country to erase this afternoon's events from his mind.

The Fall Fashion Fiesta. Straight-forward, innocuous enough. He'd been to dozens of fashion festivals in his lifetime, an enthralled spectator each and every time. Except today.  
  
Today, he'd been a participant. A _model,_ if you wanted to get technical. A model for a traditionally _female_ outfit, if you wanted to get even more technical.  
  
And the runaway winner.  
  
Raeger tossed and turned in bed, trying for what must have been the fiftieth time to find a comfortable sleeping position. His brain wouldn't quit playing on a loop: Annie's desperate plea, Annie's _begging_ , Raeger's resolve crumbling and the cheongsam slipping over his body.  
  
Why _him_?  
  
Why not one of her girl friends? He'd asked this aloud as he'd quickly undressed behind the portable, eastern-style partition that served as a changing room, throwing his button-down shirt aside and doing his best not to look directly at the cheongsam, as if it were the sun that might blind him.  
  
Annie explained that her previous model had been Raeger's height; almost six feet without heels, and none of the other girls in town, save Iris and Licorice, were anything close to tall. Besides that, Licorice was a newcomer; Annie didn't know her well enough to ask something like _this_ of her. And for as much as Iris would have looked smashing in the cheongsam, Annie knew it would be a lost cause asking the author to be her model when Klaus was part of the competition. She had her loyalties, which Annie couldn't blame her for.  
  
Forced to remove his boxers lest they show below the cheongsam's high-cut hem, Raeger begrudgingly had to admit he had his own loyalties as well.  
  
The _problem—_ that is, if you were the competition—was that even if any of the other girls had offered to be Annie's model, none of them would have looked _half_ as pretty as Raeger did in the cheongsam. He filled it out more than nicely, and not only did it _look_ good on him, showing off his firm thighs, it _felt_ like a slice of heaven.  
  
No... no no _no_. Raeger turned himself onto his stomach, pressing his groin into the mattress to try and ease the tingling ache that was beginning to build. He _hated_ that thing. The cool, smooth silk gliding over his bare skin—sure, it was _nice_ , but it wasn't... _shouldn't_ be more than that. Shouldn't be...  
  
Arousing.  
  
And yet, it was in his pile of dirty laundry for a reason. He couldn't escape from all of Annie's congratulatory hugs and kisses fast enough, fearing she'd accidentally brush him at the wrong angle and come away alarmed by what she found. Him being a good friend and stellar model was one thing; him having to think deflating thoughts like Gunther in a speedo so he didn't pop a boner in front of lifelong friends and a bunch of veritable strangers (rather, prospective customers), was another.  
  
Getting out of the cheongsam had been an ordeal in and of itself. Having to tug and fight it off when it clung to him so relentlessly had resulted in evidence being left behind, no thanks to the friction it created when he'd struggled out of it. Returning it to Annie would mean providing explanations he wasn't ready to give, not even ready to face himself. So he'd asked, with that easy smile of his, if he could keep it as a memento of his victory.  
  
She'd told him of course he could, and to further rattle him, assured him he could do with it whatever he wanted. Hang and frame it; sell it or donate it; even _wear_ it again, should the occasion arise.

There were no _occasions_ Raeger would ever have to wear the cheongsam again. It wasn't like he could repeat his performance in another fashion fiesta. This was a one and done thing—he was retiring at his peak.  
  
So, _occasion_ , no, but what about... alone? In what little free time he had? And just once, to see what it was like? No one would ever know, and he could satisfy the curiosity that had started creeping over him while in the fashion show, and long before that.  
  
Easing his hand into the waistband of his boxers, he felt himself half-hard already. He let his head flop to the side, eyeing the cheongsam where it sat in a ruby red wad atop the pile of dirty laundry. Okay, this was weird, staring it down like it was going to slither over to him on its own accord if he gave it a come-hither look.  
  
Rising from the bed, he made his move before he could decide against it. Raeger crossed to the laundry, snatched up the cheongsam and threw himself back into bed in a matter of seconds. Honestly, what he _could_ do is burn the thing after he finished here, and if Annie ever asked about it, tell her it unraveled in the wash. Because he wouldn't _know_ how to wash something like this. Because he was a man, and this was a woman's article of clothing.  
  
But, it occurred to him, he wouldn't have to even put it on; he could just cover himself, let the fabric skate over him as he rubbed one out. It wouldn't be too different from when he wore his silk pajamas, and the crotch of the pants was too stimulating for Raeger to not wear boxers underneath.  
  
So he wriggled his boxers down, freeing his growing erection. With the cheongsam wrapped around his right hand like a prizefighter might wrap his fists with tape, Raeger set to work.  
  
The faster he pumped his tightened fist, the more frantic his thoughts swirled, bringing him back to that afternoon. Everyone had been blown away by how _good_ he looked, as they should've. He'd _felt_ attractive—powerful, really. Confident. Sexy? No... but _yes_ , especially upon hearing Fritz's wolf whistle from the crowd.  
  
Ugh, no. Raeger's thoughts _should_ linger on Annie, who'd been cheering him on beside Fritz, and he _tried_ , tried to push them towards her. Forced himself to imagine _her_ , not Fritz, pressed to him and praising how _hot_ he was in the cheongsam and trailing her finger in a smooth line along his silk-covered hard-on.

Once a dorky little pudgeball of a child, he was now objectively, irresistibly handsome. She wanted him. _Every_ girl wanted him. Even _Fritz_...  
  
"Fuck..." Raeger stuffed his free hand to his mouth, biting on his knuckles. Not only was he smothering his moans, but he welcomed the pain, a punishment for where his sordid thoughts kept detouring to.  
  
Raeger drove his hand harder, _harder_ as the precious silk enveloped him like a glove. That's right. Annie, _Annie_...  
  
But her brown hair kept tinting red, her plump breasts flattening to a chest surprisingly broad from farmwork.  
  
Before he could mentally undress them—undress _Annie—_ any further, the unmistakable slam of the front door cut through his fantasy, followed by the _ding-ding-ding-ding_! of the bell at the front counter being jammed repeatedly.  
  
"Goddessdammit!" he swore, though it came out almost as a squeak as his breath hitched with the motion of his hand.  
  
What the _hell_? Raeger whipped the cheongsam off his hand, shoving it into his bedsheets before half-rolling, half-falling out of bed. He grabbed the closest pair of pants, in the midst of zipping and buttoning them as he rushed down the stairs with a mind to chew out whoever had blatantly disregarded the _CLOSED_ sign displayed in the front window. Sure, the front door wasn't locked, but it shouldn't have to be. Who just barged right into his restaurant at eight in the evening when it was closed?  
  
Right.

"Fritz..." he sighed as his friend hopped up onto the stool nearest the register, seemingly unaware of the restaurant's dimmed lights and lack of mouth-watering aromas. "We're closed."  
  
Fritz grinned, causing his cheeks to round out like freckled, dirt-smudged apples. How had he gotten so filthy in just a couple hours? Farming, sure, but hadn't he finished his farming duties _before_ the festival, like the other farmers in town had? "Aw, but our friendship is open twenty-four/seven, ain't it?"  
  
Another sigh, this one far less exasperated. Raeger couldn't refute that, wouldn't dare to dampen Fritz's effervescent spirit just because he was in a mood himself. "Yeah, yeah..." With the sink close by, Raeger wetted a tea towel and handed it to Fritz. "But most of my friends make themselves presentable before showing up."  
  
Raeger pointed to his own cheek, mirroring where Fritz needed to clean off. Fritz did so, scrubbing at his face far more animatedly than necessary, which was par for the course when it came to Fritz.  
  
"So what's up?" Raeger asked. "What do you need?"  
  
"I don't _need_ anything. I'm just swingin' by 'cause I was in the area. Thought I'd say hi!" Fritz rubbed off the last streak of dirt and handed the towel back to Raeger, who couldn't keep the skepticism out of his expression. Fritz elaborated, "Well, and maybe I was stoppin' by to see if you're down for a little victory dinner. Celebrate how you wrecked the competition today."  
  
"I _really_ don't feel like cooking right now." As much as he adored his profession—really, he never truly _worked_ a day in his life—it was hard to muster up the energy to do it after such a long day of _not_ doing it. Especially considering how much the rest of the day's events had overtaken his mind, and way more than that.  
  
"But you deserve it! And _I_ deserve it, too. You wouldn't have won if not for me cheering you on like that, getting the crowd and judges on your side. I think I deserve a piece of the pie, ya know? Peach if you got it!"  
  
"There's no _pie_ , Fritz. And I wouldn't have even _entered_ if not for Annie," Raeger countered. He should've figured this is what Fritz was up to. "If you want a free meal, you can just say so. You won't _get_ it, but I'd rather you come out and say it instead of all the sucking up."  
  
"Sucking? Up?" Fritz repeated, clearly taken aback by the accusation. Or was it all feigned, as was his ignorance of farming whenever Annie wandered by? She'd regaled him with the anecdotes and Raeger found himself annoyed on her behalf, more so than Annie seemed to be.  
  
"Yeah. Sucking up." Raeger hated how aware he was of their overuse of the word 'sucking'. How it made his gaze drop briefly to Fritz's ever-moving mouth. "You don't have to pretend it didn't completely cost me my dignity, parading myself around in that... that _thing_."  
  
"Dignity? Ha, since when do I care about that!" Fritz's grin hung on for a few more seconds, fading out when he realized Raeger was truly irritated at having made himself so vulnerable. "Hey, I'm serious. I am! You rocked it out there, and I just think we should have dinner to celebrate."  
  
"Then make it yourself," Raeger snapped, chucking the dirtied towel onto the counter. "I'm going back to bed."  
  
"Raeger! I'm not here just for dinner." Fritz sagged, dejected like a scolded puppy, and Raeger couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand that he'd wounded Fritz like this and couldn't stand that Fritz had to pull this weapon out of his arsenal, this tragically sad expression that always got to Raeger no matter how upset he was. Raeger wasn't sure who he was more pissed at, himself or Fritz, and it wasn't something he could think about a moment longer. Certainly not here.  
  
He exited from behind the counter, feeling Fritz's pleading eyes on him the whole way as he rounded to the stairs.  
  
Raeger was halfway up the stairs when he thought he heard it. Only _thought_ because, no, Fritz would never _really_ say, "I'm here for _you_."

* * *

Going to bed was a far cry from going to sleep. Even if Raeger had been tired, he wouldn't have been able to sleep, not with how the day had unfolded and left him with so many questions. So for the next restless half-hour, Raeger did his best not to think of the cheongsam, of Fritz, or any combination thereof.  
  
The cheongsam—that was easy, now that he'd kicked it, along with his sheets, onto the floor in a pile that was out of his line of sight. But Fritz?  
  
Apparently Fritz had taken Raeger's instruction to heart, because he was making _something_ down in the kitchen. The enticing scents wafting up to his bedroom were proof.  
  
Raeger knew that Fritz had probably been a garbage disposal in a past life, had even caught him eating food off customers' plates after they'd left and Raeger had yet to clear their tables. But Fritz was also a decent cook, and showed a willingness to learn more, unlike so many others who were— _had been—_ close to Raeger. That trait was what allowed Raeger to be less apprehensive about Fritz using his kitchen than most anyone else in town.  
  
For as much as Fritz could bother him, Raeger never felt there was any disrespect intended. That it was all simply Fritz's flurry of emotions getting the better of him, but he really did _try_ around Raeger, to get a grasp of them and rein them in. The effort he put into maintaining their friendship was more than Raeger had received from any of his past relationships—if they could even really be called that. And so he always wondered, and recently, _hoped_ if there was a reason for all of Fritz's consistently forward actions and unsettling words, his affection for Raeger laid bare for all of Oak Tree Town to observe without the slightest bit of shame.  
  
Raeger closed his eyes with the hope it would help him regain control of his wandering thoughts. It didn't, so the next step was inhaling a deep, slow breath. What he got was a semblance of calm and a noseful of a faint but distinct smell he knew all too well.  
  
He knew it in a heartbeat, that tantalizing mixture of the secret spice blend his grandfather had introduced him to so many years ago. It improved the taste of everything from fruit to popcorn to Raeger's favorite, rice dishes. Raeger was the only person in the world who knew precisely which spices and how much of each went into the blend, and there was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , that triggered the memory of his grandfather—of all the days in this place at his side, learning not just about cooking, but about life—more than that spice blend's unique aroma.

He'd told this to Fritz approximately a season ago. It'd been a vague explanation, Raeger talking about scent being the strongest sense tied to memory and all that, and continuing on about his grandfather passing on the recipe to him before sprinkling it all over the tuna salad he'd prepared for Fritz. Shoveling the tuna salad into his mouth, Fritz nodded like he'd understood, which was accurate maybe only twenty percent of the time, but at least he'd been interested.  
  
And Raeger'd realized, in that terribly mundane moment, how much that—how much _Fritz—_ mattered to him.  
  
"Raeger?"  
  
For the second time that hour, Fritz interrupted his meandering thoughts, though this time it wasn't near as unwelcome. Appearing at the top of the steps, Fritz carried a plate almost overflowing with salad. Getting out of bed, Raeger met up with Fritz as he set the plate down at the table in the middle of the bedroom.  
  
"Spinach and walnut salad, complete with sauteed eggplant and apple vinaigrette." Fritz passed a fork across the table to Raeger. They were going to both eat from one plate, apparently. "'The taste of autumn, all in one delicious dish'!"  
  
Raeger smirked at hearing his own description parroted back to him. "Do you always memorize the specials?"  
  
"How could I not? You and food, my two favorite things! It's instick... instan—..." Fritz's mouth stayed parted as he tried to wrap his tongue around the correct pronunciation, and Raeger could almost see the wires crossing inside his head. "But hey, go on! Try it!"  
  
Raeger did, aiming to get all the ingredients together on the fork at once. It wasn't difficult, as Fritz had used a generous amount of walnuts and cut the eggplant into equal-sized squares. The first bite quickly turned into a few more.  
  
"This is... really good." Raeger said, savoring the fresh leafy taste of the spinach mixed with the acidic bite of the vinaigrette. The walnuts were roasted to perfection, that initial crunch followed by tender chewiness. The eggplant was saltier than in his version of the dish, but an untrained palate wouldn't have noticed, and the spice blend made the flavor pop even more. "The cooking contest is coming up; you should enter this."  
  
"Aw, it's nothin' special. I couldn't have done anything without fresh ingredients. That juicy eggplant of yours was callin' my name."  
  
Raeger blinked, nearly choking on the spinach. "My... _what_?"  
  
"Your eggplant! I dunno, it was in the fridge, so I figured it was fair game!" Fritz went on, sending bits of salad spittling out. "And it was just so ripe and firm..."  
  
Raeger _really_ didn't want to have a conversation about eggplants, especially Fritz's assessment of his. "You found the spice blend too, I see."  
  
"Yeah! It was so good when you put it on my tuna salad that one time... it's like a punch of flavor without it being too spicy or anything. Pow pow!" Fritz made a jabbing gesture with his fingers still curled around the fork, and Raeger flinched back in his seat, even though he was in no danger of Fritz actually hitting him. "I almost tore the whole kitchen up trying to find—"  
  
"You _what_?!"  
  
"Almost! I said _almost_!"  
  
Raeger's heart rate returned to normal. Still, Fritz said it so carefree, as if he didn't understand all the work and sweat—and _money—t_ hat went into the kitchen's upkeep. And he probably didn't, since he didn't have one of his own. "Everything better be in its right place when I go back down. I can revoke your kitchen privileges at any time."  
  
Fritz happily munched down more of his salad; it reminded Raeger of a cow grazing, if that cow was suffering from a sugar rush. With the salad only half-chewed, Fritz replied, "But you wouldn't. Not _meeeee_ , Raeger. I know you wouldn't...— _whoops!_ "  
  
The next forkful of salad missed Fritz's mouth and landed on his ratty scarf. Fritz picked it out and gobbled it down. A smear of vinaigrette remained at his throat, sheening as his Adam's apple bobbed, and Raeger watched, wondered what it'd be like to lick it off.  
  
"What?" Fritz asked, confusion written all over his face as Raeger continued to stare.  
  
"Nothing! You're being a slob, you know that?"  
  
"Welp, them's the breaks, right? Some of us are slobs and some of us..." Fritz paused, trying to spear as much eggplant as possible onto his fork. He glanced up at Raeger, sounding perfectly _giddy_. "Some of us are Fashion Fiesta-winning sex symbols."  
  
"No," was Raeger's flat reply.  
  
"No?! Heck yes! I saw you out there struttin' your stuff—and trust me, out of anyone in town, _you_ got the stuff to strut. Know what I'm sayin'?"  
  
"I _do_ know what you're saying, but I don't think you should be saying it."  
  
"Aw, don't be like that, Rae."  
  
"I'm not _being_ like anything." Raeger set his fork down, settling back into the sofa with his arms crossed defensively at his chest. "You're the one making it seem like... like I'm _into_ that."  
  
"I wouldn't care if you were!"  
  
"But I'm not. I didn't _want_ to be in the Fashion Fiesta, definitely didn't want to wear the cheongsam, but..." Shit, he didn't want to talk about this, but with Fritz he could keep it shallow enough. "Annie's one of the best friends I've had in a long time. And she's helped me a lot around the restaurant recently. It didn't really feel like a lot to ask of me. So I did it for her."  
  
"You'd do it for me too, right?"  
  
Raeger's frown turned to bewilderment. "What... what are you _talking_ about?"  
  
"The cheongsam." Fritz was beaming again, like he'd been in the crowd. "You'd put it on for me, wouldn't you?"  
  
" _Why_ would you even want me to?"  
  
"Why not?" Fritz shrugged, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Unless you'd rather I put it on? I don't mind! Now, where is it...?" Slowly, he stood, looking this way and that in search of the cheongsam.  
  
"No!" Raeger bolted up, darting over to block Fritz from hunting down the cheongsam. "It's uh... I have it in the dirty laundry. Which I really don't want you goin' through."  
  
He loathed that the only two options had become either wear the cheongsam himself or allow Fritz to wear it. As though he couldn't choose a third option, which was _neither_ of them wear it, and he'd shred it to silk confetti with his cheese grater. But Fritz was the most stubborn person Raeger had ever met, and knew that the choices he'd been given were all he'd have.

For as much as Raeger wouldn't want Annie to discover the aftermath of the Fashion Fiesta, to have Fritz encounter it would be even more humiliating. Annie might end up being disgusted by it, but Fritz would want to know _more_. And Raeger did _not_ want to have a conversation about anything remotely sexual with Fritz, fearful to what it might lead to.  
  
"Okay, cool!" Fritz picked up the salad plate. "I'll take this down and pack some up to bring home, and you change. Sound good?"  
  
It did not sound good; it sounded terrible, awful, _horribly horribly not good in the least_. But Raeger swallowed down a scream and nodded in agreement.

* * *

He couldn't believe he was doing this. Again.

 _You're a man_ , he'd heard, even as a little boy. A man didn't revel in donning skirts, dresses, or worry about looking pretty. Presentable and professional yes, but _pretty_? That was a girl's job, or so his grandfather had told him. Oh, there were men who cared about beauty. Men like Marian, whom Raeger was so thankful never had to meet his grandfather. Their _ways_ were something Raeger should never associate himself with if he wanted to keep the restaurant's reputation—not to mention his grandfather's reputation as well as his own—from being sullied.  
  
Raeger had learned so much about cooking and customer service from his grandfather, maybe there just wasn't any room left for him to effectively absorb all those other life lessons. If his grandfather had been in attendance at the Fashion Fiesta today, he would've had a heart attack at the sight of Raeger modeling this outfit. Either that, or he would have grabbed Raeger off the stage, red with fury like he'd been when he caught Raeger playing around in his mom's clothes when Raeger was only seven.  
  
And Raeger wanted to be _sorry_ about it, but Goddess, he did _not_ care. He _had_ cared, but... Fritz was the remedy to that. Fritz just _didn't care_ about that sort of thing, and while Raeger was still trying to get a handle on if that was good or bad—or, most likely, a little of both—it didn't matter much now that he was in the cheongsam once again.  
  
What sounded like a herd of elephants came tromping up the stairs in the form of Fritz, breathless like a kid running to a pile of gifts under the Christmas tree. When he saw Raeger waiting for him, he quite literally stopped in his tracks, grin stretching so wide it nearly split his face in two.  
  
"Oh, _wow_."

"Happy now?" Raeger wasn't sure what to do with his arms, and settled on folding them at his chest. Fritz started to circle him, and Raeger matched him step for step, not wanting it to be evident from the high-cut hem that there wasn't anything beneath the cheongsam.  
  
"Haha, _oooooh_ yeah, I am." Fritz's gaze traveled up and down Raeger, admiring glint in his eyes. "I don't even know how you fit into that thing. Looks like a tight squeeze, but I guess you got the figure for it, huh?"  
  
"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Raeger's tone turned sharp. Fritz was always saying things like what he'd said earlier, like _this_. Comments that went _way_ over the line, into flirtatious territory. Even Raeger tended to not be so forward, not unless he was serious about a girl. And Fritz... he wasn't even serious about brushing his teeth some days. Raeger couldn't imagine there was anything close to true intent behind his words, especially since they were both _guys_.  
  
Still, it unnerved him, which was a rather mild reaction compared to what he was sure _should_ be the appropriate response.

"Hey, I'm just trying to compliment you. Take a chill pill, alright? Can't I appreciate you?"  
  
"I woulda thought you'd gotten that out of your system for the day."  
  
It was burned into his mind, as if it were a special on the display board in front of the restaurant. Fritz's slaphappy grin as he cheered Raeger on, shouting loud enough for the other spectators, Del Cosa, probably even Tropical Country to hear, " _Woooooo!_ Raeger!! I LOVE YOU, MAN!"

"I just... aw, well, c'mon. It helped, and you know it! As much as I wanna give all the credit to those nice gams of yours."  
  
Without warning, Fritz reached out and slapped Raeger's thigh approvingly. And not lightly, either.  
  
"Geez, Fritz!" Raeger stumbled backwards, turning wildly to face the shelves that divided his living area from where he stocked extra ingredients and supplies. He knew his face must be as red as the cheongsam, and the strange stirring somewhere around his stomach wasn't helping. "Don't _do_ that! You've... you've seen it, alright? So you can leave now."  
  
Why had he made the mistake of turning his back to Fritz? He _knew_ , could feel Fritz staring so intensely at his ass that he'd think Fritz possessed x-ray vision. But what was the alternative? Face him, so Fritz could get an eyeful of what was growing into a raging hard-on? Fuck, why had he agreed to this in the first place? No, he knew why. An excuse to put it on. An _occasion_ , as Annie had told him. He could lie to himself all he wanted, say it was to shut Fritz up, but the truth of it roiled around inside him.  
  
He didn't like how suddenly quiet Fritz had become, and desperation climbed into his voice. " _Fritz!_ You can't... if you tell _anyone_ about this, I swear I'll—"  
  
"Rae, listen. It really _is_ okay. You don't gotta be embarrassed; I'm not judging you for any of this. Shoot, you think I wouldn't give half my fields up to wear something so nice, even if it is ' _girly_ '?" Raeger couldn't see Fritz, but he knew he was finger-quoting as he put emphasis on the final word. "'Girly' don't mean _bad_. Right? Girls aren't bad... haha, I _know_ you don't think that!"  
  
It made an astounding amount of sense, Raeger had to admit. It wouldn't have made sense to his grandfather, although there was so much about Fritz that his grandfather would have disapproved of in general.  
  
But his grandfather wasn't around anymore.  
  
Shutting his eyes and steeling himself with a deep breath, he focused on being honest without being _too_ detailed. "It's not... not about how I look in it. Not really, anyway." This, _this_ he could tell Fritz; it was bizarre, shameful and yet he didn't think it was any weirder than half the shit Fritz said. "It just... it feels _nice_. The fabric. It... I have silk pajamas, right? It's like that."  
  
"Can't say I know what silk PJs feel like, but I think I get ya!"  
  
"Okay..." Raeger's anxiety dissipated, if only a little. Now all he had to do was get Fritz out of here. "But still, don't... don't go around tellin' anyone about me doing this for you."  
  
"No way, man! Boundaries respected, one hundred percent."  
  
Considering how close Fritz had come to slapping his ass, Raeger didn't entirely believe that, but it was about the best response he could have hoped for. "Great, now that you got what you came for—"  
  
"Dinner and a show?"  
  
Raeger couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out. "Yeah. Yeah, now you can get goin', alright?"  
  
"You sure?" Fritz asked, his concern painfully genuine. "You don't look so good."  
  
And Raeger probably didn't, the way he was standing slightly hunched with his arms braced on the shelves, trying to cope with how dreadfully aroused he was. "Yeah, I'm good. It's just kinda tight, like you said. Hard to take off. But I'll manage." He didn't _want_ Fritz to know why, exactly, it was so tight. Yet, he couldn't keep his thoughts from flickering through the possibilities of what would happen if Fritz _did_ know.  
  
"Aw, well I can help!" Fritz's voice grew louder, footsteps indicating he was closing in. "What, do I need to unzip something, or—"  
  
"No, Fritz, you don't have—"  
  
"C'mon, let me help! _Please_?" His plea was so chipper and innocent, Raeger couldn't bring himself to tell Fritz off like he desperately wanted to. What _wasn't_ innocent was how Fritz was now virtually flush up against him. And why was Fritz's hand on his Raeger's hip, as if he were a woman? Handling him delicately, carefully, teasing the fabric up around his thigh and gathering it in small increments.  
  
"Whoa, what—!?" Raeger grabbed Fritz's hand, stopping it from traveling any further south. But he knew Fritz must be able to feel the cheongsam starting to rise, unusual and sudden. Could sense the tension in Raeger's whole body while beads of sweat trickled down his neck into the cheongsam's collar.  
  
If Fritz _could_ feel it, he didn't give anything away. "You said you gotta take it off little by little. Else it'll tear, right? Wouldn't wanna ruin all of Annie's hard work."  
  
" _Fritz_..."  
  
"Let me help, okay?" Fritz asked in a hush. "I'm just gonna help you out, buddy. Help you outta this thing."  
  
It was weird to think of Fritz having _experience_ with a partner, but he must have, the way he inched up the cheongsam's hem, slowly but surely. Predictably, there was more resistance at the front than the back, and Raeger had to swallow a moan, which he was also positive Fritz could feel the movement of.  
  
Fritz stopped. Laughed, though it was more of a "Huh!" that someone makes upon discovering something unexpected. And intriguing. "Holy heck, dude, you're not wearing any underwear."  
  
" _Fritz_ ," Raeger hissed, trying and failing to elbow Fritz off him. His arms were too shaky, head too cloudy.  
  
"Oh _shit_ , you weren't wearing any during the fashion show either, were you?"

"I _couldn't_ , I mean..." This, Raeger wasn't afraid to admit, because it _wasn't_ an excuse; it was the truth. "I could, but it'd look dumb, my boxers just hanging out."  
  
"So that whole time you were up there free-ballin' it?" Not that Fritz didn't always sound playful, but there was a definitively more mischievous edge to it.  
  
"Sure?" Raeger made a weak noise that was supposed to be laughter. Leave it to Fritz to be so unabashedly open about dicks, either his own or others'. Where he'd been terrified moments ago, Raeger was decidedly more comfortable—emotionally, anyway. He still wasn't able to move an inch without the cheongsam chafing and sending searing hot pleasure through him. "You can put it that way, yeah."  
  
"Then I will." Fritz cleared his throat, and off-key, began singing. "' _Now I'm freeeeeeee. Freeee-BALLIN'!"_  
  
"FRITZ!" Raeger's attempt to scold him was too framed with laughter to have any effect. He hoped to the Goddess that none of their neighbors had their windows open. "Would you shut the hell up?"  
  
"This better?" Fritz dropped his voice to what was almost too quiet to be a whisper. The tone was low, too serious to be _Fritz_ yet it was him, repeating himself without giving Raeger the chance to respond. "This is better, isn't it, Raeger?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess—"  
  
Regardless of volume, Fritz wouldn't and didn't shut up. "I'll tell you what though, it's pretty hot, not gonna lie. Man, and you already got me goin' with those legs of yours. I wasn't kidding around, they really do look smokin' in this."  
  
To drive his point home, Fritz's fingers, which had been curled tight around the cheongsam's hem, splayed out to drag possessively along Raeger's thighs. The back of the cheongsam was bunching up, even more as Fritz brought Raeger back against him.  
  
Not that Raeger thought it possible at this point, but feeling Fritz so _close_ to him was making him harder. He bit his lip, stifling a whine as he twitched once, uncontrollably.  
  
Now there was no doubting that Fritz knew. His fingers wandered closer to the movement and idly brushed along the tented front, far more gentle than Raeger would have expected from Fritz.  
  
"Don't... " Goddess, he felt so damn _warm_ , it was like standing in front of the oven left open. Too bad he wasn't; he would have considered sticking his head into it, just to escape. He tried to shift his footing, nudge away from Fritz's nearing touch, but it was useless. "Stop talking about it like it's... like you're _into_ this. This is _embarrassing_."  
  
"Whaddya mean, embarrassing? I go commando all the time. You know, sometimes you just don't have time to do laundry and you've already worn your last pair of undies all four ways and—"  
  
" _Four_ ways?"  
  
"Yeah, duh. Forwards, backwards, then inside-out and forwards and backwards again. Today's day three!"  
  
Great, he was in a cheongsam sprouting wood while his best friend was behind him wearing inside-out briefs that probably had some stupid pattern of little cows or horses. What a pair they were. Part of Raeger told him that, logically, he should regret letting Fritz into his life, let alone his restaurant. But a stronger, louder part of him screamed that Fritz complemented him perfectly, a secret recipe that brought more flavor into his world.  
  
"But hey, what if I _am_ into this?" Fritz asked, going back to tugging the cheongsam up, his grip now dangerously close to Raeger's erection versus where it had been, at his thighs.  
  
"What if...?" Raeger began, then shuddered as the cheongsam pulled up on his dick, sliding smoothly, _wonderfully._ He couldn't tell if it was purposeful on Fritz's part, or just anxious fidgeting, but the tiny tugs and twists were driving him insane. "Then, ah..."  
  
"Yeah...? Go on!" Fritz paused momentarily, and Raeger took the opportunity to swat his hand down.  
  
" _Don't_." He could barely get the words out at this point, his breathing so heavy. "I... I mean don't... don't lift it away."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"B-Because. It feels good this way? Like I told you, the silk is... nice."  
  
"You sure about that?" Fritz asked, though it sounded like he already knew the answer. "I thought you wanted me to help you get it off."  
  
Raeger was too horny to care about what was embarrassing or _weird_ or gay anymore. He needed this, and _wanted_ it to be courtesy of Fritz. "I'd rather you get _me_ off."  
  
"Now you're talkin'!" Fritz practically shouted into Raeger's ear.  
  
"Fritz, you don't have to yell. I'm right here..."  
  
"Oh, haha, you sure friggin' are!" In an instant, his hand had closed upon the bulge straining the cheongsam's front. He began pawing at it eagerly, like it was some treasure to unearth.  
  
" _Fuck_ , what...!?" Raeger almost sank onto the shelf, but Fritz's left arm went around his middle to station him. His right hand, a tight fit with the shelf in the way, started pumping furiously. Raeger didn't know why he would have anticipated anything different.  
  
"Raeger..." Fritz whispered in his ear, uncharacteristically _ragged_ and almost... _almost_ sexy? Or, about as sexy as Fritz could be, which was not at all, but the _neediness_ behind it... _that_. That was unbearably attractive to Raeger. From Fritz, sure, but from _anyone_. He was so used to being wanted—for his looks, for his cooking—but _needed?  
  
_The damn cheongsam rode up even further, in part to Fritz's aborted attempt to remove it, but also because Fritz was mindlessly grinding against him. And that's what informed Raeger he wasn't the only one going commando.  
  
"Fritz... what the...?" Raeger's body betrayed him, and he repeatedly pressed back into solid presence nestled between his thighs.  
  
"So I might've kinda lied..." Fritz murmured into Raeger's neck. "Today _miiiight_ actually be day five."  
  
_Eurgh_ , and Fritz had been in his kitchen?! Cooking. Touching his pots and pans, utensils, the canister of spice blend. He was going to have to sanitize the whole damn building. If he could even walk after this.  
  
"I hate..." Raeger panted, his breathlessness covering up any disdain. "I hate... you. Shouldn't of... let you near the kitchen..."  
  
"Hey, relax!" Fritz's motions kept pace with the spike in his tone. "It's not like I was jacking off before I made you dinner! What kinda guy do you think I am?"  
  
"Fucking... _Fritz_ , why..." Raeger fought to keep his voice from rising. "Well, what am I... supposed to...? You've told me my sturgeon soup is so good that you _literally_ touch yourself to it!"  
  
"That's _eating_ dinner, not cooking it! And I literally didn't mean _literally_. Geez, Rae, stay with me here!"  
  
"I don't think... I gotta choice... _fuck!_ " And he really didn't. Not that Fritz seemed to mind, with how enthusiastically and thoughtlessly he was jerking Raeger off. Just trying to do _something,_ fulfill his mission of getting Raeger to come without any idea of how, exactly, he would accomplish it.  
  
"I didn't think you'd... that you'd wanna." Fritz kept his face buried to Raeger's neck, the weight of his body preventing Raeger from turning around even if he'd been able to. For as direct as Fritz always was, there had to be a certain level of hesitation over looking your best friend in the eye while your own were glazing over with lust. But Raeger liked the contrast of Fritz's rough, work-worn skin pressing to his neck right where the collar of his cheongsam ended. It was a sweet balance, keeping him from completely tipping over the edge.  
  
"Wanna _what_?" Raeger growled, impatient.

"Any of this. The cheongsam. Me. Mostly me." Fritz's mouth creased into a frown; Raeger could feel it, followed by the vibration of a sad, dejected whimper.  
  
Raeger hadn't thought on any of it either; it wasn't a topic he dwelt upon. But now? He _still_ didn't know what he thought of it. He _wanted_ to say that absolutely, under _no circumstances_ whatsoever, would he let Fritz fuck him, but hadn't he told Annie the same thing about the cheongsam? That him wearing it was off the table, non-negotiable?  
  
The very thought sent surges of ecstasy straight to his dick, demanding he find his release or risk imploding. "Only because you made me dinner," he joked, a trembling laugh flattening into a throaty sigh as Fritz's hand squeezed with _jussst_ the right amount of pressure.  
  
"Aw, of course I did. You deserved it... you deserve this too, dude. Shit, you deserve the whole world." He ground his palm harder into the silk, encasing Raeger's erection even tighter. "You heard me at the festival. I love you, Raeger."  
  
"Don't... don't say... " Raeger groaned, his knees threatening to buckle as he rocked forward. "You say that _all_ the time."  
  
"Yeah, well, I mean it all the time."

It was so stupidly earnest, just like Fritz. Which Raeger wasn't sure how to respond to, verbally anyway; his body was acting on impulse. But he didn't have to say anything, as Fritz spun him around and covered Raeger's mouth with his own. He tasted, unsurprisingly, like the salad. The tart, crisp apple and the zesty seasoning from the eggplant. Raeger had half a mind to pull away, but here he was letting Fritz jerk him off through a cheongsam—it probably wouldn't be believable for him to insist that he was _uninterested,_ even, discomfited by the idea of being with another man.  
  
Except Fritz wasn't jerking him off anymore.  
  
He was too busy trying to undo his own pants, panicked whiny noises escaping him. Raeger grunted and swore as he wedged his hands into that impossibly small space so he could open Fritz's pants, verifying that Fritz had been telling the truth about it being day five.  
  
Raeger's leg hooked up to Fritz's waist, and Fritz helped him along, cupping his hand under the cheongsam and around Raeger's exposed ass. In one swift, powerful motion, Fritz tried to lift Raeger onto the shelf, knocking jars of spices and sacks of flours to the floor.  
  
It didn't quite work, but it gave Raeger a much better angle to drive himself against Fritz. Who, maybe, hadn't wanted to fuck him? Or, maybe _did_ , but wasn't _trying_ to. He was concerning himself with getting Raeger off, thrusting hard against him as Raeger's leg kept him reeled in close.  
  
The _coolsmoothhardhot_ all at once with Fritz's dick sliding along his, only the cheongsam between... he couldn't take it anymore, and it was like a pot boiling over. Too much heat, too much pressure, and he cursed out a storm as it all unwound, his body spasming against a Fritz who was muttering his name with unmasked _want_.  
  
Raeger would've collapsed to the floor if not for Fritz's hold on him, if not for himself clinging to fistfuls of Fritz's sweaty, messy hair. There was the warm, sticky gush trailing over his dick, down the inside of the cheongsam and his hiked-up thigh. His mouth hung open, spilling out delirious gasps as Fritz tried feverishly to keep kissing him, still rock hard against the inside of Raeger's leg.  
  
"Oh, _damn_ , dude." When it became apparent Raeger didn't have any energy left to kiss him, Fritz pulled away. Tucked himself back into his pants as if this were protocol, that he had no qualms about not getting off. He couldn't take his eyes off Raeger, raking him over from top to bottom. No warning given, he swiped his hand at the cum stuck to Raeger's thigh, peeking out from the ruined cheongsam.  
  
Still attempting to regain composure, Raeger couldn't move to stop him. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"  
  
"Nothin'!" Fritz said, examining the glob on his thumbtip. "Your cum kinda looks like the apple vinaigrette."  
  
" _Fritz_!" was all Raeger could say as Fritz brought his thumb to his lips and sucked it clean.  
  
"Doesn't taste like it though."  
  
"Well, great, so I'm never serving _that_ at the restaurant again. Ever."  
  
"Only to me, huh?" Fritz winked.  
  
"Sure," Raeger failed at sounding unamused. "Secret menu item."  
  
Still flushed pink from all their exertion, Fritz grinned. "Speaking of menu, I _am_ pretty hungry."  
  
The afterglow wore off instantly. Raeger narrowed a glare at Fritz. "How does that work? I'm the one who got off and _you're_ hungry from it? And are you sure you don't need me to..." Raeger made a pumping gesture with his hand.  
  
"Don't worry about me, I can just whack off at home or somethin'. It's kind of a nightly ritual anyway. I'll just take your salad home to eat, and then get that over with. Not at the same time, though! I swear!"  
  
The prospect of Fritz going home after what had just transpired twisted a blade in Raeger's heart. Not simply _because_ of what happened, but Fritz didn't have the best track record with being out this late.  
  
"I don't think you should go home," he said. "Lillie was telling me earlier it could start storming pretty bad tonight."  
  
"Nothin' I haven't been through before!"  
  
"No! Fritz, just..." Raeger sighed; he'd have to make it plain. "Stay, alright? I want you to."  
  
"...Really?!" Fritz exclaimed, like he'd been told he was given all ten public fields.  
  
"Yeah, really. You can eat the salad here." Raeger was exhausted, but not so much that he could keep the suggestive hint out of his words. "And if you need... anything else, we can work that out, too."  
  
"Ohhhh, yeah, I get it!" He fingergunned at Raeger. "So how 'bout I dig into that salad, then come back for round two? But this time we can go with what gets _my_ motor runnin'."  
  
"Your... motor?"  
  
"Haha, yeah! Y'know, how you're into all that silky stuff? I've got preferences of my own."  
  
"Kinks," Raeger corrected. "They can't be any weirder than mine, that's for damn sure."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Rae. You're not weird, not to me. And if you are, it's not because of _that._ That—like I said, _that_ was awesome. Awesomely _hot_ , not weird."  
  
"Fritz..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Fritz's expression turned apprehensive, like he feared Raeger might uninvite him. "I shouldn't say that. But I did, and I'm gonna keep sayin' it to you, bro. You need to hear it. That's _my_ kink, making you feel cared about!"  
  
Raeger was a romantic at heart, and what Fritz had said was not anywhere _near_ romantic. But for how dumb it was, it was also one of the sweetest, most authentic affirmations he'd ever heard.  
  
It left Raeger speechless, as so many of Fritz's antics tended to. But for a wholly new reason he was only just beginning to accept.  
  
When the silence stretched on, Fritz started to walk backwards, clumsily, towards the stairs. "So I'll uh... go eat? Or, I can still leave, if... it's cool. Or not cool, or... whatever it is."  
  
That jarred a response from Raeger. "Hey, no, it is. Cool. It's cool, Fritz. I still mean it. Stay. Go eat, but come back, okay?"  
  
"Okay?" Fritz said, unconvinced.  
  
" _Yeah_ , it is okay," Raeger reiterated. He could do this. Could be as open with his feelings as Fritz was, right? Fritz deserved for him to _try_ , because it wasn't like things between them were going to go back to how they'd been. "Look, I'm not asking you to stay over so we can fool around—I mean... yeah, I am, but... I'm trying to... you're good to me, never too busy for me. So I wanna be good to you, too." The realization, as simple and true as it was, clicked into place as the words left Raeger's lips. "I appreciate you."  
  
"Yeah...? R-Really!" Fritz's eyes widened with shock, like this was coming out of nowhere and not shortly after they'd had crazy, passionate sex. "No way, man! I really appreciate you too!"  
  
Raeger refrained from rolling his eyes. "I know you do, but going forward, can you show it in ways other than trying to slap my ass?"  
  
"Don't worry, I've got all kinds of ideas. I told you, nothin' gets me hot like makin' sure you're shown the appreciation you deserve. But I'll still get to slap your ass every now and then, right?"  
  
"Maybe," Raeger acquiesced, smiling softly. "But if you wanna show your appreciation _now_ , I got an idea of my own. One that gets me pretty hot too, just thinkin' about it."  
  
"Oh?" Fritz lit up enough to rival the Fireworks Festival. "What? Tell me, tell me!"  
  
"Well." Raeger motioned to his forearms. "You could roll up your sleeves..."  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Fritz got that sneaky look to him that Raeger knew far too well and shoved up the sleeves of his threadbare shirt. "Got it, got it. Then what?"  
  
"And make sure your hands are nice and clean." Raeger rubbed his own hands together to demonstrate washing them.  
  
"Yeah, no worries, I'll go do that!" Fritz was practically salivating. At first, Raeger was sure Fritz would dive on him for another kiss, but it became obvious he was aiming to hurry into the bathroom, to the sink. Raeger caught him by the arm, keeping him from advancing to the same bathroom he meant to shower in within the next few minutes.  
  
"And after that, if you _really_ wanna blow my mind..." Still clasping Fritz's freckled forearm, Raeger leaned in close to whisper in his best seductive tone. "Go downstairs and do the dishes."  
  
"Raeg— _mppph!_ "  
  
Raeger yanked Fritz in, covering any potential protest with a fiercely demanding kiss before pushing him away, waving him towards the stairs. Giving him a long last look, Fritz bit back a proud smile and disappeared downstairs.  
  
There Raeger stood, still in the stained cheongsam, knowing he should peel it off. But he couldn't get his legs to move, couldn't get _any_ part of his body to move except his fingers. He touched them to lips that prickled from the intensity he'd kissed Fritz with.  
  
Raeger was pretty sure victory wasn't meant to taste like this, like sweat and spice and the apple vinaigrette he would never make again. But as he'd known all too well and been reminded of tonight, some things in life were an acquired taste.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for **yorunoangel** , not just because we've been friends for 10 years but because she helped me develop this fic while i was on a bus full of drunks at midnight on the way back from the best concert of my life. Funny how I'll always remember that night and this fic will be a part of it lol why.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated! :D I have no idea what I'm doing writing either Raeger or Fritz so yep, hope it was acceptable enough! xD


End file.
